Present Day?
by McQueriosity
Summary: How are different people seperate but linked? What happens so many days after? Who means something?
1. Chapter 1 Overview

Present day

This all started because one man reacted like any other man would facing a situation out of his control. He ran. Without consideration of his surroundings. Without shutting the door.

When Joe Bloggs clocked on for his shift that night he missed all the signs that could have saved him, and us. He didn't question where the previous night guard was or why he hadn't met him on the way out. Or why there was a shuffling noise until it was too late. When the first corpse confronted him he thought it might be one of those miracle cases of people waking up in the Morgue. It had happened before. When the second and the third and the rest of the Morgue 'woke up' he turned and ran. Wouldn't you? He just didn't shut the doors. It was the same at every other Morgue in the city.

3 days later

Billy Randal was a teacher in is local primary school. When the fire alarm rang on Monday morning it was a surprise. There were no scheduled fire drills that month. He asked Mrs Robinson what was going on, she said it must be a real fire. Then a voice came over the PA, 'All teachers must accompany their students to the assembly hall immediately. Do not go outside.'

1 week later

Lt. Nigel 'Bull' Spiers prepares to repel the 'rioters'. The National guard have been repulsed from several locations and the military have been called in to control several locations, mainly inner city areas. Lt. Spiers tells the men to open fire, then to brace for impact.

1 month later

The military have acknowledged a loss of control. All surviving cities order evacuations. Congestion clogs major roads leaving millions trapped. Soldiers execute those who refuse to leave their homes.

6 months later

All major continents infected. The infection is not identified as any known agent held by any nation. Military secrets are laid bare for scrutiny, anything to find a cause. Russia and Eastern Europe declared devoid of human life by the Fallout Commission, instigated by America.

7 months later

Nuclear warheads launched at Russia. A 'Computer Malfunction' causes half of the warheads to divert course and impact on China.

9 months later

Survivors found in America and Britain. Deliberate sabotage of the Russia/China warheads revealed. America isolated and abandoned. A cure is found and distributed throughout the world. America is refused the cure.

Present day

Handfuls of survivors establish settlements and various outposts across America. No one is aware of an outside cure. Existing military bases are off limits, all movement living or dead draws aimed fire. Roads often unsafe with bandits and criminals heavily infesting certain areas. A few safe havens remain open to anyone

**A/N This story is a sort of experiment of that's been in my head for a while. Each subsequent chapter will focus on a particular time period in the events mentioned here. If you think this can work please review and let me know. If you don't think this can work please review and give suggestions on how it might. **


	2. Chapter 2 Gridlocked

Present day

8 AM. Monday. Gridlocked traffic six blocks wide. Marge kept telling him to get up earlier, to avoid rush hour, but he couldn't resist hitting that dam snooze button three times. Being a Morgue technician didn't pay that well and, without the salvation of air con; Joe was suffering in the sweltering heat. The air wasn't so good either with all the SUVs on the road. Joe thought they were too tall and imposing for the city, towering over his battered Ford. He wasn't good with small spaces, his car was alright but surrounded by bigger cars in heat like this, it was close to unbearable. Joe looked to his left. Through a gap in the traffic he could see frantic business men with open collar shirts running through the busy streets. Joe wondered if it was hotter for them running or for him in his car.

Time seemed to fly by, in reality it was only a few minutes. If he was late again he'd be put on night duty. That would make him miss dinner tonight. Marge was already berating him for his missing dinner becoming a regular occurrence. As if it was his fault! How could he help it if he was so tired from making it up to Marge that he had to sleep late in the morning? If he didn't she'd just shout at him for something else. She had a long list and at times like these Joe couldn't help but recount what she said.

'_Why don't you make more money?'_

'_I'm sorry baby; it's that insufferable David keeps promoting other people to the higher positions instead of me.'_

'_Well why don't you quit? Hmm? Find a new job. It's not like you're dumb, even though you act it sometimes.'_

_Joe turned away and rested his hands on the table. 'You know how hard it is to find a job in this city! People won't give you the time of day if you're an ex con. One look at that on your record and they show you the door, sorry the position's no longer available and out you go! This is the first solid job I've had in five years. I need this. If this doesn't work out I don't know what I can do. There's rent and bills to pay and it's not as if you're bringing any money in.'_

_Marge wheeled her way to the countertop and began preparing supper. For her, the matter was closed._

When Joe finally arrived at work, as he expected, he received night duty. Marge would be so pissed. When his early shift ended he didn't go home but instead to the bars. Time slowed and after an eventful discussion about basketball with a short guy named Marv he headed back to work.

It was dark by the time he got there. Late again. If he kept his job after this it would be a miracle. The night guard from the front desk was missing, probably in the can tossing one off. Not much else to do at night. It wasn't as if someone was going to break in. Joe walked through the aisles, the sound of his footsteps the only noise. Just another dead end night on a dead end job. Then he saw the corpse. It was just, swaying. It was a woman, a young one. Then another one walked round the corner. And another. And another. Low moans came from them and fear took hold of Joe and shook him till his foundations rocked. The sound wasn't pain or confusion. It sounded like _hunger_. Joe turned and ran through the Morgue pursued by the clattering of the equipment as those _things, whatever _they were; _they couldn't be- could they? _; smashed instruments from their benches. Wheeling round the corner Joe almost ran into the night guard. He looked just like them. His eyes were vacant and he uttered a low snarl as he began to shuffle towards him. Joe pushed past him and ran at the door. It wouldn't open. Joe looked around frantically for the handle. He felt hands grabbing at him from behind. He pushed them away. Where was that handle? Then he remembered. He looked up and saw the bolt slid across the door. He grabbed it and slid it clear. The harsh air of the night blasted his face as he scrambled clear from the building. The moans of the things behind him told him to run. The clattering of the door told him, on later reflection, that he started it all.


	3. Chapter 3 Third day blues

3 Days later

Billy Randal cut himself shaving that morning. He watched his blood playfully chase the water down the sink while he dabbed at his face with a tissue. He pulled the tissue away and got a clear look at his face. _Not so bad _he thought. He hoped his baby girl wouldn't notice anything. If she saw the cut she'd cry and he hated to see that. Sara would be taking her to her first day at preschool today. It wasn't attached to his school as they both agreed that it would be too weird for their daughter to be taught by her dad. They eventually took her to a downtown preschool after Billy checked it out and gave it the ok.

Billy never drove anywhere, partly because he didn't have a license. He had an old racing bike that had been pedalled to hell and back, quite literally in one case when he lived in France and had to travel through some slums. It helped get through the rush hour in the mornings. And he enjoyed the faces of angry drivers trying to find room to pull over to let police cars stream past. _Probably a robbery _he thought. _It'll probably be on the news tonight if they can tear themselves away from celebrity gossip_. He didn't understand celebrity culture. All those people digging up details of people they didn't even know. If someone did that to him he'd explode. And he had a lot to explode about if someone looked hard enough.

It was always trouble finding a place to lock his bike when he arrived at work though. The school car park was just that. A car park. He normally took his bike to the railing but today something caught his eye. A row of newly erected bike stands stood near the teacher's entrance. _Must be my lucky day _he thought as he double locked his bike. He suddenly felt extremely tired. He knew why. He had the third day blues. Happened every year. First two days of the new term and he was full of energy in the mornings. By the third day however, he had all but lost it all.

First period passed quickly, as did the second and third. It wasn't until after lunch that the routine broke, in the form of a fire alarm. The kids didn't panic, that was good. Normally when the bell rang the kids would run screaming outside to the assembly point. This time they were directed to the main hall. As the kids made their way to the hall Billy pulled Doreen Robinson aside. Doreen was the oldest teacher at the school at sixty four. She didn't plan on retiring any time soon and he doubted the kids would let her. She taught the younger years and she was all but worshipped by them.

'Doreen what's happening? Is it a drill? There aren't any planned for this week.' Billy asked quietly lest the children overheard his concern.

Doreen looked up at him through her small glasses. 'I don't know. Maybe it's a surprise inspection. I don't think it's one of those… horrendous incidents… we hear about. That wouldn't happen here. The eldest kids are barely 12 years old.'

Billy and Doreen entered the hall moments after the head started his address to the school. He had trouble explaining the situation in words the children could understand without giving away the severity of what was happening.

'Children' began the head, 'There is something happening outside. I've been instructed by a police officer to lock the doors until the situation is brought under control. Please remain calm. I can assure you that you are all safe. I don't have any further details at the moment.'

The hall erupted with questions varying from, 'Is it a riot?' to 'Are we trapped?' The head ignored them and summoned the teachers together.

'Listen everyone I really don't know all the details but I've heard it's some sort of riot. It started downtown and it's spreading all over the city. The police are confident that they can halt the spread soon but not before it gets here. That's why I'm locking us all in until it passes. You must all remain here and help me keep the children calm' the head looked around the assembled teachers, 'Can you do that?'

Billy pulled Doreen into a dark corner out of earshot with the head. 'Doreen my daughter's downtown. Sara took her for her first day of preschool. They'll be right in the middle of it. Is there any way out? I have to help them.'

Doreen looked over Billy's shoulder and then down the hall. 'Yes' she said 'There is a way. Follow me'


	4. Chapter 4 Broken lines

-11 week later

Lt. Nigel 'Bull' Speirs briefs his men. He didn't need to but he did. They all knew the situation but he briefed them anyway. He told them the situation they already knew; they were in place to establish a perimeter in which the riots could be controlled. The police had tried, and failed. The National Guard had tried, and failed. Now it was their turn; he told them they were authorized to use live ammunition and anything they could find to stem the tide of the riots; they were not to get involved in close physical contact with the rioters as they carried some sort of incapacitating agent in their blood; these people are not under their own control but do not hesitate. They are not the people they once were. They were just engines of death and destruction that needed to be stopped or at least halted momentarily as, Lt. Speirs pointed behind them, the evacuation of the surrounding area was still underway.

Men filled the positions on the makeshift blockade. Due to cuts on military spending they had no tanks and air support was unavailable because the higher ups wanted to minimise property damage. Bull pointed out to them that without it there was likely going to be no owners of the property. That point was sidestepped by the fact that all available Choppers were being used for search and rescue. Even the combat ones he needed to hold back the violence.

They had been shipped out quickly and had little supplies and ammunition. They were under armed and under strength and under attack. Bull turned to his rear. The civilians were in serious danger if the assault couldn't be stopped. Moans made him turn towards the line. The first rioters were stumbling into view. _Thank god they're not running _he thought. Although none of them ran there was a definite variation in the speed at which they came. Some of the more intact ones lurched at a fast walk. Others shuffled by while some hobbled along without feet or legs. He could have sworn he saw one with no arms.

One of the more nervous soldiers started firing, even though they were clearly out of range. Several of his comrades urged him to conserve his ammo and grumbled about the lack of it. The noise served to aggravate the rioters who started moving quicker towards them. The noise coming from them rose in staggered tones. It was somewhat creepier than if they were growling in unison. They came in range. Bull gave the order. The soldiers began firing. He noticed one of the lead rioters take three in the chest and only stumbling a little from the impacts. _Christ how high are they? Do they just not feel it? What about headshots?_ He aimed and fired. Three in the chest fell back with half his face gone and stayed down. He was quickly covered by the others as they clambered over him to get at the soldiers.

'Aim for headshots!' Bull yelled to his men. The rioters began falling in greater numbers. They weren't stopping though. An explosion knocked two off them off their feet of shrapnel brought another down. _Why didn't I think of throwing grenades? _He thought as he pulled the pin and threw one of his own into the mass. They were getting closer now. He could smell them. So could the men, several of which had vomited beside their posts. There were cries of, 'I'm dry!' up and down the line as the rioters closed the distance to one hundred meters. Bull looked around at his men frantically. There was no way they were going to stop the rioters here. They had to retreat. But they couldn't. the civilians had to be evacuated. Something had to be done. Bull knew he had two choices. The first, a heroic last stand fighting the horde, which was probably the best word to describe it now, or run like a coward.

They didn't look that strong. They looked weak and fragile. Would they, trained soldiers, really lose against this frenzied horde? Bull's back disappearing through the crowd of civilians gave his men the answer. He left them at the mercy of the horde and ran like a coward. Someone shouted 'Brace for impact!' and in a few frantic moments coupled with strangled cries from the soldiers, the horde broke through the lines.

Bull saw it all. He would never forget it. And just in case he did, there was someone out there he had yet to meet that would make sure he didn't forget.


	5. Chapter 5 Forced Flight

-11 Month later

'You know what no one's said yet? Zombies'

'Give over man that's just your inner geek trying to break out.'

It had been like this for a month. After the riots started the internet was rife with rumours of 'Zombies'. All the signs were there and some people were seriously convinced that it was true. Others scoffed and remained sceptic but the truth of the matter was, the dead were returning to life. If that wasn't 'Zombie' then what was? They were even eating people.

Zack and Brendan had holed themselves up in a basement to escape the carnage outside. It was chaos. The hurried evacuation had blocked all the roads and the dead were taking full advantage of their immobile prey. The army lost control. They had resorted to moving away from the major areas of infection and had started evacuating everyone they could towards the coast.

Brendan was fiddling with a portable generator that they looted from a hardware store, trying in vain to keep the power on. A battered computer was running in the corner and they wanted as much use out of it as possible before the internet went down. The forums were going mad with rumours of alien invasion to a viral outbreak. The truth was every theory was invented to try to find a reason to explain what Zack already knew. The world was ending.

They had an old CB radio that they needed juice for too. A friend of a friend managed to get it for them. Lucky for them that he got it when they did. Some of the phone networks were going down and they were keeping contact with other survivors holed up nearby. They had to stay hidden from the army. The week before they had been talking to the chemist's son when the army came into his room and shot him. He had refused to leave his home. It was the same all over town.

Zack checked the food. There wasn't much left in the room but he had a whole lot more in the shed. He turned to Brendan, 'I'm gonna get more stuff from the shed, where's the gun?' The pair had one gun between them, a battered old rifle from the Second World War. It wasn't much but it hadn't let them down so far.

'Dude it's on the wall, like it ALWAYS is.' Brendan slapped the PC hard and the screen flickered. Zack grabbed the rifle off the wall and began to make his way outside when Brendan started shouting, 'Hey hey! Stop!'

'What man!? You scared the bejeesus me. What is it?'

Brendan gave him a sheepish grin. 'I thought you'd know. You know, considering you're the geek. You're wearing a red shirt. You got a death wish?'

Zack looked down. True enough he was wearing a red shirt. He quickly changed it. 'Right now before I go this time is there anything you wanna say?'

'I love you? Just go man I'm hungry'

Zack climbed into the daylight. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light and looked around. In the garden there was nothing out of the ordinary; it could have been any other day. Beyond the walls however, it was a war zone. The gunfire had become just plain background noise after the first few weeks but the screams still unsettled him. He should have got used to them by now but there was just something about how they pierced his heart that disturbed him. Especially when the screams were those of children.

The shed was at the other end of the garden. As he made his way towards it there was a loud bang that came from the basement, followed by muffled curses. Zack ran hell for leather back inside expecting the worst. What he saw however was quite different. Granted it was bad but it could've been a lot worse. Brendan was standing over the body of a soldier screaming obscenities. The CB radio was lying in a broken heap next to him. The soldier had a nasty looking cut across his forehead that was bleeding profusely. Most likely it wasn't serious, scalp wounds always bled like that. At any rate Zack didn't feel sorry for the soldier.

'He's a Lieutenant. Says so on his uniform. Think he's on his own though. Hasn't got much ammo on him so he's probably runnin' scared. God knows how he lasted this long, he's got no food anywhere, I checked. What you think? Kill him?' Brendan looked back down at the soldier. The name was obscured. '…eirs' was all he could make out.

'No, we'll have to leave soon. Couldn't you have been any quieter? We're the lucky the whole army hasn't stopped by. Get his gun and ammo. We need it.' Zack was stepping over the body when he stopped. He reached down and put the man's pistol in his hand. 'Is the jeep fuelled?'

'Yeah it's got a full tank. Where are we gonna go?'

'I dunno but wherever it is we better go now. The roads gonna be trouble though. Can we go off the roads?'

Brendan swapped guns with the soldier, 'I know a way. It won't be easy though.'

Zack sighed, 'Is it ever?'

**A/N sorry it took so long for this chapter to go up. I wanted Brendan to be someone who just died but I didn't like how it was going so I rewrote the whole thing. There was going to be some zombie action in this chapter but I thought it'd be better if I mentioned Lt Speirs again. In later chapters I will be including some characters you've already seen and showing what they get up to after so many weeks. I do want to go back to them though so there will be some disjointed story telling possibly. We'll see.**


	6. Chapter 6 Coffee maker

6 Months later

'Ladies and gentlemen. We are the senior survivors of our respective countries. We are here, on this island safe from infection because we have a job to do. The past, if you'll forgive the bad wording, is in the past. Old hostilities must be laid aside. Alliances ignored. The survival of us as a species depends on our co-operation. You all know the seriousness of our predicament. We must not fail.'

The speaker took his place at the round table. The assembled 'leaders' of every major country were gathered on this island to discuss the future of the human race. Some countries had their elected presidents, heads of state and rulers. Britain had an undersecretary from Hanglington and Greece had a journalist. The President of the United States had survived, along with the leaders of France and Germany. Russia hadn't managed to attend. Well, that was some of the leader's opinions. America was firmly in the opinion that it were devoid of all life.

America was the main instigator of the arguing at the table. They refused point blank to release details of their secret weapons as it 'threatened national security'. Britain's Undersecretary was quick to point out that they barely had a national anything; the whole country was being ravaged by the plague. Nobody believed in 'zombies'. At least, not in the traditional sense. Yes, they showed all the signs of warping straight out of a horror movie, they were dead people that had re-animated, they ate people, the people they ate returned to 'life' and they were unstoppable except to massive head trauma.

The people on the ground and the underlings of the leaders of the world said 'zombies' all the time. There were other names but they were mainly a mix of crude insults revolving around their 'stench'. It was widely recognized now. Only the leaders tried to retain a sense of a world that was dead, where such things didn't exist.

Every continent was infected, nowhere was immune. Before the signs were recognized, when the virus spread slower, infected people boarded planes and boats in a mass exodus from America. Nowadays only lasted an hour, if you were lucky, after being bitten. Eastern Europe fared the worst, the Fallout commission declared it devoid of life within three weeks of infection.

The leaders of the world remained blind to the true nature of the Fallout commission. The underlings knew it was aimed at 'cleansing' countries America viewed as inferior. Russia wasn't far off from being downgraded from 'Surviving' to 'Barren'. The action to be taken was being discussed heatedly by the leaders, and despite the best efforts of many, they were arguing with no hope of a solution any time soon.

Andrew Mathews was a coffee maker in Britain's 'headquarters'. He hated it with a passion, being away from the action was not what he'd planned when he joined the government. Then again, a zombie plague wasn't on his list of foreseeable circumstances either. He and Julie had barely made it out of London after the infection reached England. It hadn't always been just the two of them. They started with a group of six. They lost Harry first; he'd gone out on watch one morning and disappeared. They never found any of him. Unlike Amy. They found her torso angrily trying to bite them when they went looking for her.

Eventually it was just the two of them and they ended up growing quite close. They were trying to keep it secret from the others in the office. Some people were jealous that they had managed to have something in a world that was falling apart, others just wanted something so badly that they would tear someone's world apart to get it. Andrew was busy making coffee when Julie came up behind him. He could tell what she wanted by the way she moved; although there was a lot of floor space she pressed herself against him as if they were on a crowed train or bus.

'When can you get away?' her breath was warm and soft against his ear.

Andrew turned to look around. They were alone. 'What about here?' he looked around again, 'We're alone'.

Julie smiled and walked away. Andrew would have followed her had it not been for the pimpled face of the 'Prime Minister' peering around the corner, asking for more coffee. Andrew grumbled 'yes sir' and turned back to his coffee maker. The Prime Minister's eyes flicked around the room, Andrew knew he was looking for Julie. _If that man makes one more move on her I swear I'll make him Zombie chow _he thought to himself. _How much bleeding coffee does he want anyway?_


	7. Chapter 7 Bug in the system

7 months later

The Prime Minister walked through the building towards the conference room. The hallway was well lit and had armed guards posted at irregular intervals along it. It wasn't how he'd have had it but there was a serious manpower shortage. Well, the men were still on the base, they were just too dead to help. He straightened his tie as he walked because he needed to look like a leader. He tried to smarten his hair because he wanted to look like a leader.

He looked into his headquarters, it was empty. No doubt Andrew and Julie were off making more zombie food. He saw the scene in his head and imagined himself within it. He stirred and pushed the image out of his head. Now was not the time. A full pot of coffee was on the table waiting for him. He picked it up and moved for the conference room.

His pager bleeped before he got there and he changed course. Soon the corridors became less bright and the guards even more infrequent. He knocked on a door and waited before knocking again. The stale smell of unwashed sweat greeted him rather than the outstretched hand of the technician. The small room was occupied by a single man, short and overweight, who was fabricating a report for the President to use in his speech later that day.

The President was planning to launch nuclear warheads at Russia. He described it as the 'perfect opportunity' to eradicate his old enemies. What the Prime Minister didn't know was that half of the warheads were set to impact on China. This, the President said, was because they were becoming too powerful for their own good. America was the name that people whispered in fear, not China.

'So' the Prime Minister's voice was hushed, 'what's so important? I'm addressing the leaders in a moment.' He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark room. Then the lights came on and the Prime Minister took a step back in shock. The technician was lying across the keyboard. The document on the monitor was illegible; the keys pressed by the body of the man had long since destroyed any coherent sentence.

The Prime Minister realised in that moment that it wasn't the smell of stale sweat that had welcomed him, it was the sickly sweet stench of recent death. The man hadn't been gone long, his blood hadn't started congealing and his extremities hadn't started stiffening. _Did he page me? Asking for help? Or is it something else?_

The lights clicked off and a voice, one he recognized but couldn't match to a face, spoke to him from the darkness. 'The men on the grassy knoll were dead within the hour after the assassination of President Kennedy. The loose ends were tied and the investigation fell apart. It's the same in any conspiracy and it is especially true for this one.'

The Prime Minister turned to where he thought the voice was coming from. In reality he was speaking to the man's left shoulder. 'Am I a loose end?' he asked. _Too direct _a voice in his head warned. _You might as well have said 'are you going to kill me?'_

The voice didn't seem to take offence to this; in any case the tone of the voice didn't change. 'We couldn't trust this man not to talk. I know none of this seems real but it's not one of your Hollywood movies. This has to remain a secret. Frankly, if it were up to me, you'd be joining our mutual friend here on his trip over the fence. The President, however, has a different idea. You are going to clean up the mess. You're not so bad with computers; make sure the President or America isn't implicated in this. Blame it on a… bug… call it what you will. When this is over we'll have no need to fear anyone anymore. Everyone will fear us and that is how it should be.'

The Prime Minister looked at the now bloating body of the unfortunate technician and then looked at where he thought the man was again. The man had moved during his speech and the Prime Minister was now talking to an empty wall. 'You're not seriously considering this? I mean it's just ridiculous.' The Prime Minister's sentences trailed off into nothingness when the voice became a hand and put a knife to his throat. He felt the blood of the technician on his neck and wondered how many others had felt their own blood trickle down their neck.

'It doesn't bother me. You say no, you die here and I find someone else. It's no consequence to me.'

The Prime Minister weighed his option. 'Ok, I'll do it. But this IS crazy. No one's going to believe that this was an accident.'

The voice with the knife laughed. 'Yes they will'


	8. Chapter 8 9 Months gone part 1

**A/N a lot happens in this time frame so I'm gonna do the chapter in parts. I'm thinking three parts but it could be different. I also want these chapters to be longer with more zombie action, if you feel I should add something let me know by way of review. Oh yeah, you'll see some familiar faces again too.**

9 months later

'Look at that. You know what that is?'

Andrew Mathews, recently promoted, looked at the screen in front of him. On the screen was a satellite map of America. 'What exactly am I looking at?' he asked.

The man on the computer looked at his exasperatingly. 'Look' he jabbed a finger at the screen. 'Heat signatures. That's gotta be survivors. The fires died down a while ago and those… dead things don't show up since they have no body heat.'

Andrew looked at the screen. There were blotches of heat scattered across the country. _It could be people. God knows I want it to be. But I can't go to the boss based on this._ 'Is there any way you can blow up these, so we can see the settlements? Do you have better pictures?'

The computer man smiled and pressed a button. A video appeared on the large screen in front of them, showing a group of people reinforcing barricades. The image moved to the right and Andrew saw a few grizzled buildings with makeshift defences. Behind those was a large water tank. Plots of land growing vegetables dotted the settlement. Andrew admired them. They were in it for the long hall.

As they watched a light flashed on one of the buildings and the workers doubled their efforts. The camera panned back to the barricades to find a large group of zombies approaching the settlement. The workers leapt behind the wooden boards and onto a platform behind them. Using long poles they skewered the first few zombies that got too close. Their bodies halted the progress of the ones behind.

Just as it seemed to be going so well for the workers one of the zombies got caught in the shoulder by a pole. The zombie grabbed at the pole and was in the process of wrenching it free when the worker saw his mistake and tried to pull the pole back. His friends shouted a warning but the man didn't seem to be listening. Putting his foot on the boards to give him leverage the man gave a mighty tug. The zombie didn't loosen its grip and other zombies began piling forwards. The first zombie reached his foot and he looked down to see it in mid bite.

Andrew looked away as the man was pushed off the platform by his fellows, screaming all the way. 'Are they always that ruthless?' he asked the computer man.

'I'd assume so, it's safer that way. That was the first time I saw that happen though, normally they just let go of the pole.'

'Don't they have guns?' Andrew had been expecting more. The survivors had already had ample time to loot themselves better weapons.

'They do, I saw the stockpile. I think they have an ammo problem and they're saving them all for emergences.'

'They lost a man today.'

'They lost three yesterday. But they'll last longer this way.'

Andrew looked at the other screens, which were blank, and said 'Are there other settlements like this?'

The man on the computer laughed. 'You bet your ass there are. All over the place. They're not all as strong as this one though. I saw some in England too. There seem to be moving convoys too. Some of this looks pretty organised. What are you gonna tell the higher ups? They'll want to hear about this.'

Andrew looked at his watch. 'There's a meeting at five. I'll have something set up by then.' He turned around and walked away to plan his next move. He'd have to talk to Julie about this.

The scientist called to his boss. 'Mr Phillips you have to see this!'

Mr Phillips looked up from his research and walked over to the younger man. 'What?' he asked. The young man looked excited and nervous. He had a look in his eyes that told Mr Phillips he'd found something.

'I think I've found something. Something big. It could be a cure.'

'This sort of thing can't be cured,' Mr Phillips shouted, 'What use would that be anyway? You've seen the state of some of those things. Even if it were possible to bring them back, It'd hardly be practical let alone ethical!'

'But look sir, it's different to that. This could act as an antidote to the virus. We could start clearing cities so we can live normal lives again. We might even be able to change the nature of those things. We know that they don't need flesh to survive so it must be something else. This could change them, make it safe for us to round them up or something.'

Mr Phillips sighed. 'Even if this works, and I hardly think that such a cure could be possible, how would we administer it to... those things. They aren't the friendliest creatures, or mabye you missed that bit?'

For a moment the young man looked defeated. Then he came back again. 'If we injected hunks of meat with the cure, and fed it to them, that would work.'

Mr Phillips was starting to warm to the idea. 'How does this 'cure' work?' he asked.

'I tried to find a way to reverse the process. I looked at the data we have and I found a pattern. The virus kills cells, but not all at once. That's why people get sick first. But the virus has evolved and it's too fast for anything we tried before. So I came up with this.' The man held up a vial of blue liquid. 'This slows the virus down and gives this-' he held up another test tube '-time to work. It boosts the immune system to suchan extent that it reverses the process. The cells actually become more healthy.'

'How fast can this be mass produced? We have a lot of things that need curing.'

'If I can find the right conditions it needs to duplicate, it will manufacture itself. Right now though, it'll still takesome time.'

Mr Phillips turned around. His microscope was withing reach. 'How is this made? Then we can get all departments working on it as soon as possible.' When the young man seemed reluctant to say Mr Phillips continued, 'This is too important for one man alone. But you have my word, you'll get what's coming to you for discovering this. You've given us new hope.'

The young man smiled and gave Mr Phillips the formula. then he stood up and walked to the other side of the room. the window showed a scene of madness as the numerous dead tried to break through the fence. over their moans he didn't hear Mr Phillips coming behind him. Mr Phillips swung the microscope at the man's head. Their was less noise than he expected. He looked around for an easy way to dispose of the body. On the table was another vial. Its label read 'virus. Handle with care'. He grabbed a syringe and injected the body. Then he prepared himself.

The guard heard the cries for help as he patrolled the corridor and ran to the lab. Through the window on the door he could see Mr Phillips panting and leaning against a wall. He opened the door.

Mr Phillips looked at the body of the young man. The virus was doing its work and the body was looking more and more like a zombie with every second. He shuddered. He didn't like to use the word 'zombie'. It made things seem less real. Scientifically it was hard to admit that they were exactly that. Then he cried for help. He saw the face of a guard at the door and went over his story again.

'Thank God, I thought no one would come. The young man went mad. Thought he had a cure so he injected himself with the virus to prove it. I tried to stop him but it was too late.'

The guard looked over Mr Phillip's shoulder at the body. It sure looked like a zombie. 'Well you seem to have fought him off. I'll have cleanup come and- Jesus Christ look out!'

Mr Phillips looked around to see the young man, standing. His face was grey and the eyes were black. But he knew that he was far from dead. He spun round to the guard and yelled out. The guard had drawn his gun and was aiming at the zombie. He fired and the zombie's head split open. It stood for a few seconds before falling to the floor. Mr Phillips smiled internally. All was going as planned.


End file.
